


Prompts & Various

by StregataDalloStregatto



Series: Demetra's Ballad [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Plus Size Inquisitor, Some prompts are NSFW, others SFW, plus sized inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StregataDalloStregatto/pseuds/StregataDalloStregatto
Summary: A collection of prompts that people sent me.Come and say hi at stregatadallostregatto.tumblr.com





	1. Prompt 1

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of prompts that people sent me.
> 
> Come and say hi at stregatadallostregatto.tumblr.com

**NSFW**

***

“What do you mean I need to focus more on my shield?” Cullen asked, leaning against the wooden fence.   
Demetra shrugged, testing her new blade against the wooden dummy. The silverite sword shone under the autumn sun and a sharp thud broke the silence in the courtyard. The sun was settling down and most of the Skyhold inhabitants were having dinner in the Main Hall or a laugh and a drink in the tavern. Demetra threw a smile at him, a bright twisting of lips all mischievous and white teeth “I just think you use your sword a lot and your shield a little,” she sang, balancing her weight on her feet and doing a powerful lunge. Cullen nodded, approving the precision of her swinging movement, but not her answer. She hummed in satisfaction, examining the sharpness of the blade closer, her leather jacket forgotten near the fence, and the sleeves of her blouse rolled up. He smirked seeing her disheveled state. Cullen knew she wasn’t supposed to train at that hour - Josephine always made sure to let her some free time between her meetings and dinner time - but he also knew she couldn’t resist testing her new sword.   
Seeing Demetra marching toward the training ring had been a pleasant surprise, though, so he wasn’t going to complain.   
”I’m sorry, I disagree with you, Inquisitor,” he smiled, bowing slightly and making her chuckle “I’m well aware of the importance of a flawless defense…”  
”Yes, your soldiers can confirm it,” she replied, trying a parry against the dummy.  
”However, I think I use my weapons quite well. Shield included.”  
She turned to watch at him “I’d say you use it well enough, but as a  _Marcher_ I do think we know how to use it better. We could fight just using that.”  
Cullen nodded again “Care to show me?”  
”Now?” she arched her eyebrow and he shrugged “Why not? There is a little time before dinner.”  
She smiled and he held his breath. There was a sparkle of mischievousness in the twitch of her red painted lips. All of a sudden, he realized he hadn’t kissed her since the dawn when she had left his bedroom before Skyhold fully awoke.  
Apparently unaware of his thoughts, Demetra said “I’d like to duel against you, Commander. But how about we add some pepper?”  
”Do you have something on your mind?” Cullen asked, leaning against the wooden fence and trying not to smile too widely. He knew he was going to adore whatever she had in her mind.  
”Lots of things, actually,” Demetra said slowly swirling her sword “I would like to make a deal. The winner of our little match is going to collect whatever prize they want.”  
Yes, this time the naughty hint was there crystal clear for him to hear.

Cullen smirked and grabbed the closest sword on the rack. Looking at her a bit too more appreciatively than a simple inspection -  _two could play this game_  - he offered to remove his armor since she was in disadvantage.   
She gave him another proof that she truly spent a lot of time with Dorian and Bull “You’re very kind, but you can take all your… clothes on. For now.”  
Despite her bold voice, he saw the red shade of her cheeks and chuckle gently. A touch of boldness and two of shyness, as always. _Maker’s breath_ , but he loved her more than he can express. She picked a shield, large, heavy and sturdy. Cullen knew it would make her slow, but the thing was also sturdy. He needed to pick a shield which would allow him to be fast if he wanted to have a possibility against that wall she was holding nonchalantly with one hand.  
They fought and, as a warrior, he appreciated all over again her ability to block his lunges. Her plan was to tire him, letting him trying and trying to break her defense. No doubt this usually worked. Demetra held the shield close enough to her body not to fatigue her arm. She protected entirely her face as well, with that position. He could see her eyes anyway and he smiled back at her “Having fun, my lady?”  
”A lot, actually. Still waiting for you to start, Commander.”  
Cullen laughed, loudly and freely. She echoed him, but their match didn’t stop. Once it seemed she was going to win the match, pushing him away with a well - placed sweep of her shield’s hem. He jumped to her left side just in time. Cullen grinned and charged her taking advantage of the empty space she was forced to leave between her torso and her shield. She blocked his attack with her blade. Demetra didn’t give him time to recollect and pushed against him with full force. The little rock under his foot did the rest of the job and soon he was on his back, her blade against him and her hugest smile to enlight his day.   
”It seems the victory is mine, Commander.”  
Cullen huffed “So it seems, Inquisitor.”  
”Ah, don’t tell me you’re sad. You fought well.”  
She helped him to his feet and carefully put down her sword and shield. Cullen followed her, brushing her lower back not so casually “Thank you, my lady. I’m not sad at all, however. I was just wondering how prize you’ll claim.”  
”Try and guess.”  
He turned and caught her gaze. Running over his body.  _Hungrily_ , he could add. Before he could grin or reciprocate the favor -  _Maker, that blouse of her was really, really enchantingly snug around her_ _chest -_ she pushed towards him and sealed her lips onto his mouth. When she let his lips it was only to murmur sinfully in her best Inquisitor voice “I think I’ll claim you.”  
  
Then, she kissed him again.

He backed her until something stopped them. With a quick glance, he realized it was the armory’s door.   
“Maybe we should take this somewhere else?” she asked. He looked at her, knowing she was right. He also knew, though, that once they started walking to the fortress trying to reach her or his bedroom, someone would stop them. It was a disaster bound to happen. It always happened.   
“We’ll be quick,” he promised, his hand resting against her breast, passing his thumb over and over again her clothed nipple. She groaned quietly, then she held him against her, mouth demanding and hot. Cullen blindly searched for the knob. He couldn’t contain a grunt in her mouth when her marked hand traveled down his cuirass and even lower, until she found the bulge in his trousers. Cullen’s own hand covered hers and made her squeeze. Another grunt, a soft moan from her, and finally he found the blasted knob. He shoved Demetra inside the armory, pressing her against the wooden door. She chuckled, biting his lower lip and smiling at the shiver that ran through him “Ah, yes, we didn’t try sex here yet.”  
Cullen panted out a laughter, kissing her neck with ruddy lips “I just want to prove you I’m an open-minded man, Inquisitor.”  
She giggled, her hands working quickly to unfasten his belt.  
It wasn’t a very comfortable position for her, Cullen realized holding up against his hip one of her legs, as his sword hit the floor. He didn’t have the chance to say that aloud. Feeling her hand on his cock, hearing her moan as she helped him to sheat into her core, all of this swallowed any thought that wasn’t about the sensation to be one with her. He grabbed her soft calf, fingers digging into flesh and muscles, and he thrust. She rolled her thick hips, her hands holding his body tightly and apparently ignoring the nuisance of his breastplate between them. He murmured a groan or maybe a half prayer - he couldn’t think straight when she was holding him like this, all softness and curves and warm. For him, being accepted by her like this was more than sex. He was making love to the woman who held his heart in her hands.  
“I love you,” he sighed, punctuating every word with a thrust. She came biting hard her lip to contain a satisfying sound, hands grabbing the fur of his mantle. Cullen looked at her face, taking pride in being the one who made her feel so good and being terrified that every time they’re together it could be the last one. He swore again to do everything in his power to help her in her duty. To shelter her as much as he could. He wanted to give her so much and feared he could offer so little. There were other things Cullen wished.   
He would like having more time for them, sometimes.   
Time to bare her soft flesh and even softer skin peppering kisses over every curve and freckle and stretch mark. Time to worship her as she deserved until his name was the only thing she could scream. Time to hold her in his embrace, marveling that this brave, splendid woman chose him above anybody else.   
“Cullen,” she took his face with trembling fingers, but her lips were firm and her voice resolute, anchoring him to the present.   
It was pointless spoiling the precious moments they were allowed to share worrying when she was warm and needy and passionate flesh under his fingers. Yes, he wished to do so much, but he would accept whatever she and Maker were going to give him. After all, he was known to be a practical man.  
He kissed her again, hard and deep, tongue chasing tongue, and let her swallow his loud grunt as the climax hit him.  
Pleasure shoot over his skin and through his bones, tearing his mind off the worries and the fear. A primal satisfaction filled Cullen, leaving him boneless and light. He pressed her against the door, releasing the leg he was still holding, and letting his head resting into the crook of her neck, right where a red mark had bloomed.  
Demetra stroked his hair with gentle fingers and kissed his head with reddened lips. They both knew their time was running over. Soon enough one recruit would come to put their weapon back or a soldier would enter to check the armors. Yet, neither of them seemed eager to leave.   
It was just when she sighed and gently pushed him back that he hummed and slipped out of her. They exchanged affectionate words and a quick kiss before they help each other to redress. Demetra chuckled and brushed his curls in place, as he took advantage of her position to peck the tip of her nose.  
They left the place walking close, fingers safely laced until a second before entering the Main Hall.   
He went to sit with Rylen and other officers arrived from the Western Approach. She joined her friends.  
They would be together soon enough, in the comfort of her quarters, in which she always took care to leave at least one window open for his well-being.  
Until that, Cullen would enjoy his meal, his men’s chatting and jokes, and the memory of what happened before.   
This is what she was giving him. Not only sex, not only her body but sweet memories and laughter together and safety.   
Maker, maybe he didn’t deserve any of this but he would treasure and protect it until his very last breath.


	2. Prompt 2

**_1- Breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouth  
  
_ **

* * *

  
“Love, please, talk to me,” Cullen cooed kissing her temple and gently rubbing her back. Demetra didn’t want to be consoled.   
She wanted to open a rift with the damn Anchor and let it swallowed her.   
Demetra was deeply ashamed of having being caught during her outburst and by Cullen of all people.   
She groaned pressing her face into the pillow.  
“Demetra, what’s wrong?” he insisted softly, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. It was a difficult question to answer, she realized sniffing.   
There wasn’t a specific thing that had provoked her flare-up of tears as soon as she reached her quarters.  
  
She was just  _tired_. 

Physically proved, after hours spent in the training with Bull and the endless meetings with her Advisors, with diplomats in the Main Hall, in private consultations with important or so proclaimed guests. Not to mention the new prank orchestrated by Sera, which involved bees and a strange sort of glue. It transformed one of the broom closets in a mess that the servants refused to clean or even approach.  
Demetra, trapped in a day as busy as always, had had barely the time to eat something quick, and now she was thirsty and hungry.  
It didn’t help her mental exhaustion.  
Some days, bearing the title of Inquisitor was an honor to honor fiercely and a duty to accomplish without complaining.   
Other times, as today, she just craved a moment of quiet.  
There was always something which required her attention, her time, her efforts, and someone who asked her opinion, her power, her influence.   
Rarely anyone outside the circle of her wonderful friends worried if the Inquisitor had enough time to recover from the last battle -  _often she had to wear luxurious clothes over barely healed wounds_  - or to enjoy something just for herself -  _reading something not related to war or unspeakable secrets for example_  - or simply remembered she was just a human and not an unerring Herald -  _she prayed to understand the Maker’s plan or at least to do well enough to save the world_.  
Today it hadn’t been any different, and yet she was exhausted beyond measure.  
After leaving behind her title, once safe in her bedroom, Demetra barely found the will to kick her boots off before collapsing on her bed.  
She just wished to sleep for a bit.   
Instead, big tears had rolled down her cheeks wetting the embroidered pillow.  
And then Cullen arrived, with a tray of food and surely different plans than to find her a sobbing mess.  
Demetra felt the mattress bent under his weight as he sat next to her, gently caressing her tense shoulders “Love, take a deep breathe and drink some water. It’ll help.”  
She shook her head. He kissed her head again “Please?”  
He almost succeeded in hiding his concern, but she heard it pushing at the edge of his calm tone.  
Despite being horribly embarrassed by her behavior, she didn’t wish to continue to act as a child or to worry him. Not when she wasn’t even sure why he should have been worried.  
Swallowing her distress, she sat up slowly, trying to hide her face under the curtain of her hair “I bet I resemble a tomato with puffy eyes,” she croaked. Cullen’s smile was relieved as his words “A lovely tomato, though.”  
She smiled faintly, the water against her lips was fresh and delicious.  
He let her finish, before pressing a kiss on her shoulder “Do you want to talk?”   
“Not really,” she replied, inhaling slowly “I’m just being silly.”  
“Don’t say that,” he protested, shifting a bit closer.   
They stayed quiet for a moment or so.  
“I’m tired,” she spat out at the end, rolling on her back, head resting near his leg “and I didn’t want you to see me like this.”  
“I understand,” he said simply, pushing locks away from her damp cheeks “and I’d like to help you if you allow me.”  
As he talked, he stood up and started to discard his armor “First of all, food. Then, if the idea sounds good to you, what about a massage? Or perhaps we could play a chess game or just sit near the fire and read something? Not a report,” he promised with a small smirk.   
She sniffed, feeling blessed and pathetic all at the same time “Thank you.”  
He looked at her, with soft eyes and an even softer smile “Don’t thank me, love. You would do the same.”  
“Yes, but you have more reasons than me to be tired.”  
Cullen sighed “I didn’t know this was a race.”  
Demetra protested at his statement. She didn’t mean…   
After carefully putting down his last piece of armor, Cullen bent towards her and their kiss was long and gentle. She knelt on the bed with a satisfied sigh. He angled her neck just right to nip lightly at her lower lip, as he knew she liked.  
“You have all the rights to be tired,” he murmured, his whispers tickling her mouth “and I’m glad you let me stay here with you. I love you on good days and bad ones.”  
Demetra murmured her appreciation with a low sound. She held his shirt, wishing for a better position -  _he was surely going to hurt his neck like that_. Cullen didn’t seem to mind, taking his time to explore her mouth and repeatedly kissing the corners of her mouth.  
“I hate seeing you as tired as you are,” he breathed against her lips “but you’re a great woman, Demetra. You’re doing well.”  
“Thank you,” she sighed, shifting on her knees enough to be able to press her face into his neck “thank you.”


	3. Prompt 3

 

**_When one person’s face is scrunched up, and the other one kisses their lips/nose/forehead_ **

* * *

**  
Arm loss mention and tons of fluff**

* * *

Sometimes, Cullen frowns so hard that Demetra fears he’s going to break his bones’ face. He has done that since they met for the first time in Haven -  _while Cassandra was shouting questions and the others were suspecting her of a mass murder_.   
He does that face regularly when something it’s bothering him, and reports and letters can’t give him the answer he’s searching for.   
Demetra sighs, marching towards his desk -  _of course, he hasn’t heard her entrance._  
Every time he is focusing hard, his face scrunches up, a deep wrinkle appears between his eyes and his mouth disappears into a thin line.   
She’s still in awe of how much and for how long he can analyze and study a portion of a map, a piece of a message, the tiniest flaw in a plan and make up a reply, a plan or just an idea to make things more efficient.  
Nobody dares to talk to him when he’s wearing  _that_ face. He does not like interruptions and his annoyance can be quicker than his courtesy.  
But she isn’t anybody -  _even if she has to admit that back in Haven she misunderstood his concentration for anger or disagreement_. Anyway, she’s his wife  _now_ and she wants him to stop whatever he’s doing and have some rest. As his wife, however, she perfectly knows she needs a plan to convince him to stop for a while. Or just a few well - placed kisses.   
She’s pretty sure he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast and Maker only knows how many tasks they have to complete before leaving Skyhold.   
Cullen stares at her in shock when a gentle kiss plans on the tip of his nose. Before he can recover, she presses her lips to his forehead, chuckling seeing a trace of her lipstick on his skin.  
“What are you doing?” he questions, still frowning, but a twitch of his lips betrays his amusement. Demetra motions him to move back a little and she easily sits on his lap. Not before to place another peck on his cheek.  
“You need to shave,” she declares, smiling when his hands hold her a bit closer. He shrugs, throwing at her a wicked half grin “Do I? I had the impression you liked it this morning. And yesterday evening, I could add.”  
Demetra punches him “Bedroom’s stuff should stay in the bedroom!”  
“That was more hidden library’s stuff.”  
She can’t restrain a laugh “And people used to think you were such a pure, Chantry boy.”  
She wants to frame his face and cover it in kisses -  _and after, have some lunch and a nap_  - but the reality of her new status hits her abruptly when she tries to caress his face.  
With both her hands. As she has done countless times. But now…  
She stops, trying to keep her face straight as her survived hand stays in the air between them, frozen.   
“Love,” Cullen calls gently, covering her only hand with his and kissing her palm tenderly. He puts her fingers on his skin and presses his face into her touch, gently, fondly.  
Cullen waits for her and she nods an unspoken reassurance.   
It’s a huge improvement, since the first times this happened and she could just cry and cry until she had trouble breathing. She throws her arms around his neck, yanking him closer “I think you worked enough today. Most of the soldiers are ready to go and they want to say goodbye.”  
“Our departure is close,” he murmurs, eyes wandering around in the little room he has been so fond of.  
The winkle appears again and his mouth twists. Demetra knows he’s not regretting the end of the Inquisition, neither their decision to visit his family.   
Their duty as Commander and Inquisitor has been successfully done and the Inquisition couldn’t give anything more to Thedas.   
Yet, the future is altogether a huge leap and a great adventure.   
She kisses his forehead “It’s gonna be alright, I promise.”  
“Shouldn’t be me the one who supports you?” he jokes.   
Peppering her Commander’s face with little kisses until he can’t do anything but laugh, Demetra nuzzles his cheek “We’re married. We take turns.”


	4. Chapter 4

**_Kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the other person’s_ **

**_***_ **

 

He grabs her and presses her body against his, their armors crashing against each other. She let the tension leave her body, leaning in his embrace, the echo of her speech to the Wardens still resonating in the air. The words have sprinted them in action.   
There are fallen comrades to bury from both sides and a broken order which is looking at the Inquisition for a new lead. None of this is important for him, not now. Gently pushing her back, Cullen looks at her intently “Are you alright?”.  
She nods, tears streaming down her cheeks, where one fresh cut has been not so well healed.  
He hugs her again and barely hears Cassandra barking orders around, collecting the shaken remnants of the Grey Wardens and leading the Inquisition soldiers out of the broken fortress.   
It’s over.   
She’s exhausted, he’s still terrified, but and the battle is over.   
Even if it isn’t a true victory.   
Not with his beloved Inquisitor crying against his neck and her broken words and explanations lost amidst her sobs.  
The Commander suspects he’s hurting her and he truly, truly tries to relent his grip. But she’s trembling and it’s while since she has been so shaken, and he just struggles to find the right words.   
Stroud’s name and fragments of what happened in the Fade spill from her mouth. Hawke throws them a glance and a kind, sad smile, before letting Varric have a look at her wounds.   
Leaning back, her eyes puffy and her mouth trembling, Demetra forced her lips to curve in a brave attempt at a smile “I’m glad you’re okay.”  
“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers, touching her forehead with his “I saw you fall… I thought… thank the Maker, you’re here.”  
She nods and then she kisses him. It’s little and hesitant, but he pushes his fingers through her messy hair, making her arch her neck.   
He wants for it to be gentle, but she’s holding him and demanding more, pressing his bulk against her. She tiptoes with her eyes closed and he would chuckle if he didn’t know she needs this as much as he does.   
His body answers her prayer curving into hers, a shield from strangers’ prying eyes and a safe place where laying her title down and just have a moment of peace.  
He proceeds following her rhythm, gently pressing his tongue against her cracked lips. She tastes of salt and dust and a tiny hint of mint. Different from usual, but he doesn’t care and he knows he doesn’t taste any better.   
Still, the kiss is hard and long. Cullen holds her body in a curve and she devours him, hands firmly gripping the collar of his breastplate and the back of his neck. Their lips aren’t moving gracefully: they grab and steal puffs of air. His tongue curls around hers as soon as she opens her mouth. They don’t stop until her neck aches and he hears someone calling for him.  
The kiss finishes as abruptly as it started.  
“We need to go,” Demetra says, quiet and tired, eyes still close, nuzzling his cheek with the tip of her nose. He nods, leaving a quick, affectionate kiss on her full cheek.  
“Come to find me later?” she asks, caressing his neck, lingering gently where a bruise bloomed. He grabs her hand and presses his lips on her gauntlet “Of course.”  
She smiles, for real this time.

 


	5. Prompt 5

**A Good Friend**

 

“This is ridiculous,” Cullen muttered. Cassandra stopped to read whatever book she had on her hands - he couldn’t see the cover from where he stayed.  
“Maybe for you it is. Nevertheless, I’ll stay until you’ll finish.”  
Grumbling under his breath, Cullen took another spoon of the soup from the tray the Seeker had slammed on his desk ten minutes ago.   
“Slow down, Commander” she scolded, “I said  _eat_ , not  _choke_. Your work will still be there in five minutes.”  
“Cassandra, I really appreciated your concern…”  
“No, you don’t.” she interjected dryly, closing her volume “But you’re my friend and since Demetra is not here to remind you to take care of yourself, I volunteered to do it in her place.”  
Cullen frowned “Did the two of you plot against me?”  
His voice was stern, but they both knew he wasn’t really angry.   
Maybe mildly annoyed that Demetra and Cassandra had arranged things behind his back, but he couldn’t truly stay angry towards a gesture inspired by affection for him.  
The Seeker wasn’t impressed at all “We had to since we both knew you were going to bury yourself in training and reports.”  
“Soon we’ll march into the Arbor Wilds. We need to be prepared.” he countered, gritting his teeth slightly.  _Maker_ , he had so much work to do, so many people to select. The best of them would escort the Inquisitor as near the Temple as possible and he had to be sure they were truly the best.  
“I know you want to see her safe,” the woman sighed crossing her legs “I do as well. But killing us overworking is not going to help her. Or none of us. We need to calibrate our resources. So, you need to take care of yourself.”  
Cullen ate his food.   
And he went to bed at an  _almost_ decent hour.   
Cassandra was right, but he couldn’t stop his worries.   
He knew Demetra was capable to take care of herself. He had seen her fight. He trusted her.   
But he had also seen so many things go wrong in a battle, Cullen groaned kicking away the light sheet.   
What if a Rift would appear suddenly?   
What if the Temple would hide something feral and dangerous and too much for a human to handle?   
What if the Inquisition would lose the battle because of he didn’t plan things enough?   
What if he would lose her because he hadn’t been careful well enough?  
He sprinted out from his bed as soon as the first ray of sun raised under the mountains.  
Demetra returned four days later and she found him bent over a neverending stack of maps and notes, a group of officers around him.   
Cullen saw her just when one of the soldiers greeted her, immediately imitated by the others.  
Cullen sent her the most sincere smile, but he didn’t adjourn the meeting “Inquisitor, welcome back. We’re glad to see you safe and sound. Would you like to join us? We are discussing the best disposition for the supplies’ carts during the march.”  
Demetra excused herself -  _Sister Nightingale had already asked her to inspect the new weapon Dagna had enchanted_  - and before she could finish, Cullen’s head was already lowered to look at a piece of paper.   
He did hear, though, the little hesitation in her leaving.  
Cassandra entered in his office a couple of hours later “Commander, sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I need to confer with you.”  
Alone, her eyes declared.   
Despite still having some details he wished to discuss, Cullen agreed, and he couldn’t avoid feeling a hint of pity seeing his men’s tired faces. Maybe he should have checked the time earlier.  
Cassandra waited to be alone with him before scolding Cullen “You missed the dinner.”  
“I had to…”  
“Go to her, Cullen.”  
“I had to…”  
“We’re going to be even busier in the next days. And after that, we have an arduous battle to deal with. I think…”  _was she blushing?!_ , Cullen wondered, “I think you should take advantage of these last moments of calm the Maker granted us.”  
She was right. The realization hit him abruptly.  
He had done all that he could. For that evening, at least.  
Cullen didn’t hug his friend, but the pat he gave her on her shoulder while leaving his office wasn’t an inch less grateful.  **  
**


	6. Prompt 6

**Once Family, Always Family**

 

“Are you alright?”  
Cullen looked up from the bundle in his arms. Mia was mixing the ingredients for the pie for the next day.   
They planned to have a picnic with all the family. Rosalie had pointed out that it was a good occasion to get accustomed to each other again once and for all. He frankly couldn’t disagree. It had been five days since he and Demetra had traveled in the South Reach to meet his family. A handful of days couldn’t magically erase years of distance, even if their meeting had been moving and rich of hugs.   
And a punch from Mia, but that was another story.   
Cullen was still adjusting to the fact that his siblings had all new lives. He had met Mia’s husband and her two children.   
Branson’s wife and their son. Rosalie had told him about her studies as an herbalist. For years, he had forced himself to put them behind. First, he was too busy with his devotion to the Order. Then, it was simply too painful to tell them about his life. He had been a coward, he grimaced shifting the baby in his hold. 

Every time that his mind had slipped on their memories, he still thought of them as the children he had left so many years ago. Now, everything had changed. He was eager to know more about them -  _were they happy? Were they safe?_  - and hesitant to ask for it -  _with what right, after all?_  
They remembered him as a lad with more curls and daydreams than common sense -  _Mia’s words to Demetra_  - and they too were still studying this man with armor and a heavy past. Plus, they were studying the Inquisitor as well, still in awe to meet such a legend and find out she was a lovely woman with a thing for bad puns. Yes, those days had been good so long, yet, they all needed a bit of time. Staying with them, Cullen realized he desperately wanted again to be a brother to them. A real brother.   
“Don’t fall asleep, brother.”  
Mia’s voice was amused and he scoffed “I’m not. Why don’t you take a seat and come here?”  
Her younger son, barely five months old, was sleeping safely in Cullen’s arms, but the woman didn’t seem to have any intention to rest. Just like their mother, Cullen sighed quietly. It was the way he remembered Julia Rutherford, with a huge smile on her face and a track of flour on her cheek, laughing at something that Branson told, and making the breakfast in the meanwhile.   
Maker, but he missed his mother. And his father as well. Stanton Rutherford was a tall man, with broad shoulders and a witty sense of humor, devoted to his family and always messing with Cullen’s hair when they were working together.  
They were so proud of him, even when he left the family and they maybe knew they wouldn’t see him again. Despite their eyes wet and red, they had wished him all the best. His mother had kissed his forehead countless times, pushing in his arms a bag full of Cullen’s favorite biscuits “Remain the good boy I know you are, dear. And take care of yourself, ok? If you need anything, know that we will be there.”  
His father had hugged his elder boy a moment longer “Be safe, Cullen. We love you very much and I hope the Maker will show you your path soon.”  
That had been the last time that he had seen them.  
Now their old house was just ash and past, their fields owned by someone else, and in their mother’s garden, no flowers bloomed anymore.  
Gone.  
“You’re really good with children.” Mia interrupted his considerations, putting the dirty plate in a basin full of clean water.   
Cullen looked at her, unsure of what his face was showing. Whatever it was, Mia put down a spoon, cleaned quickly her hands on her apron and finally sat next to him “Ok, talk to me now that we have a moment.”  
Words had never being Cullen’s specialty, but his sister stayed quietly there, waiting until he put a tangled mix of nostalgia, sadness, love, and memories in something at least coherent.  
He wanted to know how they died and she told him.  
He told her what type of man he was for years and she caressed his hair.  
He murmured an apology about his lack of communication with them all and she playfully smacked him on his arm.  
Those days spent together were a new beginning for their family, Branson had said him shortly after his arrival.  
And Mia repeated it “I thought our family was lost, but here we are. I want for all of us to be happy again, and  _together_  again as mum and dad would want for us to be.”  
”I would like that.”  
”Good.” she nodded, gently taking her son from his arms “Also because I think Demetra is a fine, adorable woman, and I would like having her as my new sister.”  
Cullen blushed, rubbing his neck “Ah, that… I… it’s that…I thought often about asking her to marry me.” he confessed at the end, with a sigh.  
Mia waited and Cullen said after a moment “It never seems the right moment. You have no idea how much work our Ambassador had to arrange to allow to the two of us to take this trip in the South Reach. It seems that now that Corypheus is defeated, everyone in Thedas wants to speak with her or invite her somewhere. She’s so busy that she couldn’t manage to pay a visit to her own family in the Marches. I don’t want to put more pressure on her. Not now.”  
”You do want to ask her to marry you, though, don’t you?” Mia winked.  
 Cullen knew he was blushing, but his words were fierce “Yes. I can’t imagine my life without her, truth to be told. She… she always tells me I picked the right path alone. Maybe she’s right, but I’m not sure I would manage to get free from the Order’s old boundaries so totally if she wouldn’t have been there.”  
He whispered, unsure “I’m not even sure I would have accepted your invitation or answered your letters. I didn’t want for this family to see what I had been for such a long time.”  
They sat quietly, each one with their considerations.  
At the end, with a soft sigh, Mia stood up “Bedtime for me and this little one. Thank you for letting me know. And Cullen?”  
He looked up at her.  
”I’m glad you’re home again. Whatever you think of yourself, you are our brother and we love you. We can start again, thank the Maker. When the two of you will leave, write more often. I won’t lose you for a second time, alright?”  
”More than alright.” he agreed, putting his hand on her arm, trying to swallow the lump in his throat “I… I don’t want to lose you all either. I’ll write more often and better, I swear.”  
“And to thank you for this,” she kissed his cheek affectionately “I will continue to pretend to sleep when you sneak in Demetra’s bedroom during the night.”  
She laughed leaving the room as Cullen stayed petrified in the middle of her living room.  
“Big sisters!” he muttered. But he said it smiling.


	7. I'm Fine, I Can Walk

“Cullen!”   
Cullen felt Demetra rushing towards him and holding him, a moment before he could collapse on the ground.   
“Here, I got you,” she whispered, and he would’ve felt ashamed of his weakness if he had enough strength in his body.

“Cullen, you’re hurt.” she realized, holding him.   
He shook briefly his head, ignoring the thrumming in his skull “I’m fine, I can walk, just give me a minute.” he muttered, trying desperately to not lean completely against her.  _Fuck_ , if just the world would stop spinning for a moment.  
“You’re not fine.” she said sternly, her voice tinged with anger, concern, exasperated tenderness “Maker, Cullen, Blackwall told me you didn’t rest a moment, you didn’t eat, and now I find out you didn’t even allow the healers to heal you properly!” she added, pressing something -  _an elfroot salve, perhaps?_  - on his injured side.   
It was fresh and it itched a little against the part of skin left bare by the crack in his armor.   
The pain subsided, helping his legs to stop shaking.  
“It’s just a scratch, Demetra.”  
“This doesn’t mean you could ignore it.” she hissed. Even with his eyes closed, the Commander knew she was inspecting him “Luckily, your armor did its job well.”.  
Cullen tried again to steady himself, breathing deeply. He felt weak, exhausted actually, but it wasn’t because of the wound.  
“Why did you push yourself in this way, for Andraste’s sake?!” she groaned, refusing to let him move of an inch.  
“I…” he wanted to explain her the sheer, dread fear that had caught him, but he didn’t have the strength.   
He did want to tell her that only coordinating the troops, dealing with the remains of the Grey Wardens, fulling with work those long hours when she was inside the rift had helped him to not go crazy.  
“I… I couldn’t… not until I knew that you…” he muttered, grabbing her better. 

She huffed something, burying her face in the fur of his cloak. He didn’t understand her words and, frankly, he didn’t care.   
All that Cullen cared was that Demetra was in his -  _shaking_  - arms, and despite her wounds, her sadness and guilt for Stroud’s sacrifice, she was  _alive_.  
His Inquisitor lifted her face and he took note of the big bruise under her eye.   
 _Maker, Maker, Make_ r, he breathed deeply, incoherent and confused, but grateful, deeply grateful, she was still there. Another miracle after Haven, another incredible return when he had feared the worst.  
“You need to see a healer, dear.” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, inhaling deeply.  
“You first.” Demetra replied, caressing his cheek “And after that, we’re going to have a proper meal and a nap in my tent. Cassandra and Leliana will take care of moving the troops. We’ve done here, for now.”.  
He didn’t protest, this time, allowing her to lead him towards the healers’ tents.  
When he was with her, Cullen could allow himself to be a bit weak, every once in a while.


	8. Baking Time

**NSFW-ish towards the end, huge fluffiness for the rest  
Post Trespasser**

* * *

Cullen blended the flour and the yolks, stirring them together until they started to mix.   
He moved the wooden spoon in slow circles.  
“Am I doing it right?” he asked starting to slowly add a pinch of grated lemon’s peel.  
“Oh, yes,” Demetra purred, pressing her body against his “you’ve very talented hands. Just remember to continue in the same direction with every circle,” she said playing with the hem of his shirt.  
Cullen chuckled, shaking his head “Stop it, I’m trying to concentrate.”  
“Then don’t let me stopping you,” she chuckled, putting a generous dose of chocolate chips inside the bowl “Now, continue to mix. I love so much when you’re focused on doing something,” she whispered, kissing his shoulder as she put a piece of chocolate in her mouth. Cullen looked at her “What’s going on with you? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”  
Demetra played with the end of her long braid “I… I just want to express how much I appreciate you spending time helping me with the cake.”  
Cullen smiled “It’s a pleasure, but I feel we won’t go really far if you continue to tease me like this.”  
“Fine,” she huffed walking away, “I was just trying to make cooking fun for you. Dorian was right: being subtle is not my greatest quality.”  
Cullen frowned, quickly cleaning his hands on the apron she had given him “Why do you think I’m not having fun spending some time with my lovely wife?”  
She hit him playfully with a rag “I know you don’t particularly like cooking, lovely wife or not.”  
Cullen embraced her and kissed the top of her head “I hope you know how much I love being around you, no matter what we’re doing.”  
“But I bet you didn’t expect me to ask for help for your nephew’s birthday.”  
“Our nephew,” he correctly, taking her hand and kissing the wedding ring “and I assure you I don’t mind being helpful. Not especially after that you, Bran and Vera had to organize the party all by yourselves.”   
Demetra mumbled something and kissed his cheek “You were busy with the King. It was important since we want to have the Shelter ready to operate the next year.”  
Cullen tilted her chin up “Are you still sure about this project?”  
“Helping Templars who are trying to end their addiction seems a noble mission for a retired Inquisitor and her former Commander” she smiled softly.  
Cullen wanted to express his gratitude once more, but she cut his reply “Plus, a lazy life doesn’t really suit you. Now, back to work, or the cake won’t be ready in time for Adam’s party.”  
She pushed a lock escaped from her braid under her ear “I can cut the apples while you continue to knead.”  
They worked quietly for a while and Demetra appreciated Cullen didn’t offer to cut the fruit for her. He had tried his best right after the aftermath of her losing a limb and she feared she hadn’t been always nice, but having him mothering her wasn’t what she needed.  
In the beginning, she had wanted to do all by herself as she had always done.   
It had taken her tangled locks, shirts wrongly laced, and a good dose of humility to admit she needed help.   
When Demetra had finally summoned the courage to admit that it was pointless to try to be “like before”, Cullen was there.   
He had waited for and helped her to settle in a new life. He was doing well.  
Demetra glanced at him “Add some flour - just a pinch - in the baking tray, please.”  
As he was busy following her directions and lighting the fire in the kitchen, she added the apples and waited for him to pour the liquid soon - to - be cake in the tray.  
“How long do you think it will take?” her husband asked as they observed the dessert cooking slowly. She frowned “I think twenty, thirty minutes more or less. Why?”  
“Well, you said you liked me focused on doing things, right?”  
She blushed and chuckled “Yes. Yes, I did.”  
He hummed, catching her hips in his hands “And you like my hands, don’t you?”  
“Correct again,” she smiled, kissing his gently his mouth.  
His words were deliciously wicked against her lips “I think I have enough time to focus on using my hands on you. What do you say?”  
She said his name, arching on their bed as he made her come hard and fast, lips sucking at her pulse point, his shaft inside her and his fingers playing with her breasts.   
She called him again when he shut his eyes, burying his face in her neck and coming spasming inside her.  
When the waves of their climaxes slowly faded away, Demetra rung her fingers through his curls “Well, I’m going to ask you to help me cooking more often.”  
His laughter rumbled and sent a jolt of pleasure through her body “I love you.”  
“I love… oh, Maker!”  
He didn’t need to ask why she had pushed him out of her so quickly and ran downstairs covered in just his shirt.   
The smell of burning cake was a clear enough answer.

* * *

“Don’t get me wrong,” Branson said, his mouth full of cake “this cake is fantastic, but I thought you were going to make one with apples and chocolate?”  
Demetra convinced herself she wasn’t blushing “I thought a… simpler one was a better option, at the end.”  
  
“You burn the first cake, didn’t you?” Mia asked Cullen, watching her nephew playing with his cousins in the huge garden.   
Her brother coughed and blushed, rubbing his neck “I got distracted.”  
“I think I won’t ask you for details,” she declared, marching away with a knowing smirk on her lips.


	9. Blow A Kiss My Way For Good Luck

“Blow a kiss my way for good luck.“   
She blinked “Are you serious?”  
Cullen grinned, behind the jaws of his lion helmet, stealing her breath. For a moment, the Orlesian crowd and the Inquisition people gathered in the courtyard disappeared. She could only focus on his face, fierce and stunning, the halo of red and black fur which fell on his board shoulders, matching perfectly the one on his cloak.   
Fully dressed for a battle, Cullen truly showed he was a warrior. He was steel and flesh and blonde curls and sharp blades.   
A thing sometimes she didn’t realize, not  _fully_. Because she had the privilege to see more often his tender side, his blushes, his yawns in the morning. She was blessed enough to be tenderly embraced and passionately loved by him, and the Cullen she was accustomed to seeing more often was that one, not the warrior who now was standing proudly in front of her.   
 _Andraste and all her friends!_ , he was positively sinful in his battle attire. She could easily picture the new ways the Orlesians there would start to call him. She didn’t like it as much as she knew he wouldn’t.   
Despite Cullen’s objections in having his helmet shaped in that leonine way -  _Josie once told her all the story, making the Inquisitor laugh hard_  - Demetra thought it suited him.   
Calm and quiet until the occasion requested a powerful roar, she thought with a little smile.  _Her lion_.   
Maker, she was reading too much Cassandra’s books, she scolded herself. But it was undeniable Cullen’s ferocious side was a rare and exciting view. A reminder that he held his position in the Inquisition because he had deserved it, because he knew what a battle truly was.   
“I’m sure you don’t need good luck.” she murmured, adjusting an already perfectly fixed buckle on his breastplate.   
Ignoring the prying eyes all around, he grabbed her hand, pressing her fingers against the fangs of his helmet, mimicking the kiss he was unable to give her “A little luck can’t hurt, right?”. They shared a smile, remembering the similar conversation had near the lake he loved so much.   
“Commander Cullèn!” the ironic voice cut the air, deliberately putting the accent of his name in the wrong way. The general Vasieaux -  _former general, since Gaspard had formally put an end to the war_  - looked at him from behind his masked helmet “As lovely as the Inquisitor is, I’m here for the challenge that has been promised me, not for looking at the two of you.”  
Demetra was truly tempted to remember him he was the one who had challenged Cullen during the banquet, the previous night. Oh, it had been a perfectly polite request to see if the Commander was as able as the general had heard. But nobody in the Main Hall had missed how the Orlesian man had wrapped his request, with not sosubtles hints about the supremacy of Chevaliers above the rustic - _he had used that word too much_  - way Fereldans fought usually. Even when Demetra, with her sweetest smile, had reminded him the rustic Fereldans conquered their freedom form Orlais, the man hadn’t stopped. The general was angry, that was clear. Even more clearer, he considered the war the only worth occupation and saw in the Inquisition the cause of his forced retirement from the battlefield. Still, he hadn’t the balls to challenge her directly -  _Bull’s words_  - so he had directed his barely masked grudge on Cullen.   
 _Huge, stupid mistake_ , Cassandra had rightfully pointed out greeting them that morning. And menacing Cullen to punch him if he was going to lose against such a poor opponent.  
A  _friendly_ match had been organized by Josephine, the Ambassador herself irritated by the man’s arrogance after he had been welcomed in Skyhold. With a sly smile, Vivienne had murmured to Demetra that she was going to bet a hundred sovereigns on Cullen’s victory. The only ones who had bet on the general had been the members of his entourage, Varric had whispered,  _and not all of them_!  
The Commander straightened himself, releasing her hand, and marching toward the training ring. Rylen was waiting with Cullen’s shield, to help him to put it on.  
She called her Commander “Cullen?”  
When he turned, Demetra blew her kiss. He laughed, grabbing it with the hand he was going to use to carry the shield, putting it on his heart. She blushed and their people cheered openly.   
Later, in the tavern, Vivienne bought a round of Cabot’s best ale to all the presents with her winnings, to celebrate the victorious Commander. In a corner, the above -mentioned Commander was totally busy to receive the kiss -  _the kisses_  -  of victory from his Inquisitor.  
This time with no helmets between them.


	10. In A Rush

**NSFW-ish**

* * *

He woke up slowly and a little smile spread all over his face. Maker’s breath, it had been a while since he had such a deep rest. And he knew why he slept so soundly during the night. Curled against his side, using his arm as a pillow, Demetra was sleeping, her breath warm and ticklish against his ribcage. He chuckled softly, careful not to wake her up. Not yet, at least. Holding her closer and rolling on his side to face her, he smirked looking at her. Yes, he didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t wait for his beloved Inquisitor to open her eyes. He had plans for them, projects he hoped she was going to agree with.

Cullen kissed the top of her head, inhaling deeply her scent and the perfume of the shampoo she used the night before. She always took a neverending bath after a mission. This time it had been a long one, exploring the depth of the Forbidden Oasis.  
Maker’s breath, he had missed her. The letters weren’t enough. Things were quieter and boring when she wasn’t around, laughing loudly for a bad pun or speaking excitedly about something she had read. She was one of the people it wasn’t afraid to tell him to stop grumble when something was bothering him. He even missed not having her popping up in his office forcing him to take a break or practically shoving food down his throat.

  
Then, a thud from the door made him realized that it hadn’t been the rising sun pouring into the room that had awoken him.   
“Inquisitor? Your Worship, may I enter?”  
The voice succeeded where the knocking had failed, and Demetra stood abruptly, red locks falling all over her face, shoulders, and body. Cullen thought she was stunning, a living flame bathed in golden sun, but the messenger’s voice interrupted him “Your Worship, lady Montyliet asked you to see if everything was alright. Your weekly private meeting should have started half an hour ago.”  
“I’m coming!” Demetra’s shrieked, blinking confused and throwing her blanket away “I’m ready!” she continued running towards her wardrobe, yanking a drawer open and grabbing a pair of pants and a heavily embroidered blouse. She discarded with a huff her nightshirt and Cullen barely held back a groan seeing the side of her generous breasts he had wanted to kiss and suck, her wide hips he had had all the intentions to bite and mark. He opened his mouth again, but she jumped in her boots not losing time to lace them and, with his astonishment, she grabbed her chest and ran down the stairs. Using her hands in the place of her breastband. He didn’t know if he was more surprised, amused or aroused. He was still debating what he was supposed to do, when he heard Demetra running back a moment after, looking at him for the first time “Andraste’s flaming sword, Cullen, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you were still there!”  
“Ah, yes, I overslept,” he grinned.  
She leaned towards him and placed a kiss on his lips “I’m going to tell Josie that the meeting is not taking place today. I forgot to do that yesterday, I was too tired. I expect to find you here when I’ll return. Today is our day. Or at least, our morning, okay?”  
“Fine for me, love,” he chuckled, taking a lock of her impossibly long hair in his fingers and kissing it “No breastband today?”  
She looked at her hands, still holding her breasts in place “Why should I bother? I don’t think I’ll need it today.”  
Her voice was full of mirth and he couldn’t avoid laughing “Clever as always.”  
As she ran out her quarters, Cullen let himself fall back, his body sinking into the lavish mattress.

Yes, he would plan something special for her to enjoy. Something that, as she had said, wouldn’t require a breast band. Or clothes at all.


	11. Chapter 11

You did ask me why I joined the Order.  
I think it’s time for you to know everything, especially now that it’s your turn to chose your own path in this life.  
If you need to speak, you know where you can find me.  
 ~~I hope you will come.~~  
I joined the Templars because I wanted to help.   
My parents thought me that anyone was a Maker’s beloved child. Anyone, with no exceptions. Mages seemed to be the ones who needed more protection than anyone else. People feared them for their skills, but they could live and learn under the lead of right warriors, ready to protect them from the bad people and the perils of their own skills. I was very young, I realize this now. I was thirteen when I arrived in the Templars’ barracks near Denerim. Suddenly, I wasn’t the only one who felt as if he had a different purpose in his life than to be a farmer. In Honnleath, I was alone with dreams too different from the ones of my friends. In the barracks, I was part of a group with the same goal. I bonded better with children younger than me. I used to help them to dress and cut the bread during breakfast. I understood later that they reminded me my younger siblings. With the companions as old as I was, the speeches were almost comically serious for a bunch of children who ignored what being a Templar truly was. We saw ourselves wearing shining armors covered by glory. We studied in the morning – math, history, theology – and trained in the afternoon. We supported each other. When the time arrived, half of the group was sent to Kinloch. ~~  
I lost all of them during Uldred’s rebellion~~. 

Others of my fellow recruits renounced before the training was completed, others were assigned to different locations. I hope they survived the Red Templars’ ordeal. I hope they are fine, somewhere. Sometimes, I search them in the faces of the ones who arrive at the Shelter Demetra and I built.  
Kinloch’s Knight – Commander, Greagoir, took me under his wing. Despite our different views, I’m grateful I had him as a tutor during the early stage of my career. I disagreed with the politics that wanted to put distance between the Mages and the Templars. We lived together. We ate the same food. We pray as one in the same chapel. Why wasn’t possible to live and grow as a group?  
I didn’t see the magic a worse menace than a sword.  
Uldred showed me how wrong I was about the magic, or so I was encouraged to think later.   
All that I know is that one day I woke up, ate my breakfast, and two hours later I was digging through the mutilated bodies of my friends and their charges. I was trapped in an antechamber close to the Harrowing one. A Desire Demon tempted me after forcing a cage in which they threw me. I was infatuated to a young mage. The Demon offered me her body and, mostly, a life together, free from the chains of our roles. When they saw I was willing to kill myself instead of saying yes even after they dug in my mind, they projected in my brain the screams and the horrible deaths of my Templars’ friends and the Mages who dared to fight back Uldred’s mad minions.  
The Hero of Ferelden -  _that I’m sure you known better as Her Majesty the Warden Queen Camelia Cousland – Theirin of Ferelden_ – saved me. Or a part of me. My soul was devasted. All my youthful hope, gone. My dreams as broken as my friends’ bones. I was a body without a soul, and my heart was caged with bitterness, hate, and fear.   
Magic was a curse and every Mage just a tragedy that was waiting to happen.  
Knight – Commander Meredith found me suitable for working under her command. We understood each other’s feeling towards the Mages. I stopped to see them as people. I stopped to see them at all. All that I could see was their magic.  
She encouraged me to do so, but it would be unfair to accuse her of everything. I permitted her to use me as a weapon.   
I was the one who didn’t flinch when she told me I was the more suitable Templar to perform the Rite of Tranquillity.  
I was the one who pressed the sun-shaped seal on their foreheads.  
Even after years, I still feel the cold burning of it in my hands. When I was promoted, Meredith disposed for someone else to perform the Rite, but I won’t ever forget how unnaturally cold that thing was, despite the little flames that surrounded it. Neither I will ever forget the faces of the Mages a moment before I pressed it on their warm flesh.   
Someone begged me to stop. Someone cried. Someone spat at me fighting with every ounce of strength in their bodies. Others repeated lists which had no meaning anymore once that it was done –  _I like strawberries, the smell the scent of the sea, the sun during the_ sunset,  _the chants in the chapel, the color yellow is my favorite one, I don’t like the… yes, sir?_  
I saw them again in my nightmares, right after the Champion had left Kirkwall and I was in charge of a bunch of scared Mages and even more scared Templars.   
I saw them even years later, in Skyhold.   
I started to question Meredith’s devotion when she promoted new rules that had no point to exist. She arrived at the point to force them for entire days in their bedroom. She became paranoid, fearing conspiracies and abominations in every corner.   
And yet, despite my suspicions of her madness, I kept my mouth closed. This is my biggest sin and fault. I failed the people I was meant to protect and I failed the Templars I should have commanded.  
When the Champion sided with Orsino, I couldn’t hesitate anymore.  
The Maker was asked to decide which type of Templar – of man – I wanted to be.  
We won the battle and saved the Mages. Meredith died trapped inside the Red Lyrium. Kirkwall’s people paid the price of a war I hadn’t been able to stop at its beginning.   
When Cassandra contacted me explaining Divine Justinia’s plan for a new organization, it was already clear that my destiny didn’t reside with the Templars anymore. You know the rest of the story. I found a new purpose with the Inquisition, new friends, and your mother. Maker knows if I’m not worthy, but I bless every day the decision I took in Kirkwall that day, to leave everything behind and start again.  
I can see you wondering if the new life made for me easier to go ahead with my life. The answer can’t be a simple yes or no.  
The Templars needed a change. The change I can see in these days. I failed the Order, but I hope I won’t sound too insolent if I say that the Order failed me as well. After the Inquisition was disbanded, the Templars started to arrive at the Shelter that your mother and I built with the help of Cassandra, the Devine Victoria, and a very generous contribution from the sovereigns of Ferelden.The remnants of the Order, the part which had survived the Red Templars, didn’t want to be bounded by lyrium ever again. Or being just executioners of someone else’s orders. It was the new start that they needed to find again their true purpose: protect and serve.  
The reforms of the Divine Victoria were determined to make a new Order, one that could work together with the Mages.  
An Order that I would trust to protect you, Cecilia.  
The fact that you don’t have to live in fear that some armored soldiers will come into our house and drag you away warms my heart. Now I understand why so many people outside the Circle feared our arrival. How could I stand and look at you stolen away from us? My own child?  
I don’t know what your decision will be. Know this, whatever you’ll choose to accept Dorian’s offer and go study in Tevinter or Fiona’s offer to attend her Academy: I’m proud of you. And I love you as much as I love your siblings. That you are a Mage changes nothing.   
I wanted for you to be happy before, and I want the same now, my beloved daughter.   
  
Remember that our house’ door is always open.  
  
 ~~Cullen Stant~~  Your Papa  
  
  
— _From the private correspondence of sir Cullen Rutherford, former Commander of the Inquisition Army, former Knight - Commander of Kirkwall’s Templars_


	12. Let Me Carry You

“Put me down.” Demetra murmured, eyes barely open “I’m too heavy, Cullen.”  
“Hush, my lady.” the Commander cooed, bending over her protectively “Let me carry you just for a little more, okay?”. She didn’t answer, fluctuating between sleep and vigil, but her hand grabbed a little tighter the fur on his cloak.  
She was honestly heavy, with her full armor still on, and the snow didn’t make any easier their march, but he wouldn’t let her go for the world. 

He simply  _couldn’t_. 

Not after seeing her facing alone a dragon and that thing who proclaimed to be an ancient magister, not after hearing the thunder of the avalanche running where she was, not after believing she was dead.  
The thought almost made him whine.   
For some horrible hours, she was gone and he had found himself dealing with hollow and remorse and regret, punching a rock to regain an appearance of self-control, welcoming the pain on his fingers that was so much better than the twisting of his heart.  
Cullen had thought Demetra was gone, lost forever to save them all once again, and he had realized that he would never see again the Herald tipping her fingers on the table, trying to make a decision. Neither he would speak once again with her about serious strategies and harmless gossips. She would never tell him about her love for books, and her doubts of being the Herald. She would never force him to sit and eat in Flissa’s tavern, pointing out that the Commander needed to keep his strength.   
In the beginning, he was embarrassed dealing with everything wasn’t strictly professional. But she had never overstepped, just offered him a sincere friendship, a warm smile which reminded him that in their messy world there were still good things.   
He had found her attractive since the very first time, but he didn’t expect his crush would evolve into something different.  _Deep_.   
When she had successfully sealed the Breach, he thought that perhaps he could try to understand if she would be willing to give him a chance to be in her life, in some way. Which way, he couldn’t imagine because he had decided to tell her about the lyrium, his past, everything. Cullen had thought he was going to lose her forever. Demetra was too good and kind and in a certain way naive to deal with his past, to understand how a man who was meant to protect had been almost devoured by his rage, but he wanted to be sincere. He wanted to show her that her work was inspiring him, helping him to be better. That he was going to accept whatever she wanted to give him.

Cullen held back the lump in his throat, glancing down at Demetra.   
She was half covered in blood from a deep wound on her left side that he and Cassandra had patched as best as they could, and her face was a mosaic of bruises.  
But Maker, she was alive and they were hurrying toward their camp to make sure she would  _stay_  alive.   
“Cullen,” Cassandra called, the only one remained after she had sent the others to alert the healers “let me help you.”  
“I’m fine.” he said, unconsciously grabbing the Herald a little tighter “I’m fine,” he repeated, savoring the truth on his tongue. He had said those words hours before when Cassandra had tried to check him, not realizing how broken his voice was and the defeat in his posture.   
But this time, Cassandra didn’t push to speak to him, she just nodded.  
Cullen would feel even better when he would see someone take proper care of Demetra, but he knew she was going to live. She has to. He wouldn’t allow her to die on that cursed mountain, in the darkness and the cold she hated so much.

“Cullen, you alright?” Demetra murmured trying to open her eyes “Cass? The others? I…”  
“We’re alright, my lady.” he whispered, hurrying to see the first campfires “Hold on, we've almost arrived. You’ll be fine, I promise.”.  
And he had always been a man of his word.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like this one-shot? Kudos and (even better) comments are very welcomed!


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